


Painting Outside the Lines

by tender_is_the_ghost



Series: Travis and Klarissa [3]
Category: Gossip (2000), Norman Reedus - Fandom, Travis - Fandom
Genre: Art supplies, Artists, Body Paint, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Masturbation, Nude Photos, Photography, Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Content, Smut, Spooning, Spooning Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 01:28:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1286098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tender_is_the_ghost/pseuds/tender_is_the_ghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Klarissa helps Travis with his art project.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painting Outside the Lines

 

A frigid wind blows a smattering of snow into Klarissa’s eyes as she exits the lecture hall, pulling her furry hat down tighter over her ears. She hurries across the courtyard to the imposing stone building opposite, glad that she only has one more class for the day before she’s free to go home and warm up. It’s Friday afternoon and all she can think about is relaxing for the weekend. The first week of classes after the New Year have been intense but she’s managed to keep on top of everything, pulling some late nights, so that she has barely any work to do over the weekend. As she enters the archway that leads through to the next courtyard, she spots a familiar figure waiting at the other end.

“Travis!” she calls and he looks in her direction, messy hair even more tousled by the wind, the tips of his ears red with the cold. He’s wearing an over-sized old man’s coat which is practically dragging across the tops of his scuffed, paint-streaked boots and at least three scarves as far as she can tell, his head looking ridiculously tiny above the bulk around his neck. A cigarette dangles from his lips, the smoke being sucked away into the wind as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, either from cold or nerves, with Travis it’s hard to tell. He smiles broadly around his cigarette as Klarissa get closer, his blue eyes travelling up and down her as if reassuring himself that she’s there.

“Nice hat,” he comments with a grin, reaching up to tug at one of the teddy bear ears sewn to the top.

“Hush!” replies Klarissa, batting his hand away and feeling just how cold he is. “I’ve barely seen you all week and that’s all you have to say to me?”

He removes his cigarette from his mouth and chews nervously on his thumb for a moment before ducking his head to give her a quick, chaste kiss on the lips.

“That’s better,” she laughs, tickled by the way he still gets nervous around her, even after all these months. “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were still working on your big project.”

“I just finished it this morning,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice.

“So, will I get to see it later?” she asks, wrapping her gloved hands around the ends of one of his scarves and pulling him to her. His hands come to her hips, cigarette still clutched between his knuckles, as he smiles down at her.

“Tonight, if you like? That’s why I came by, Jones is organizing a party tonight, kind of a ‘New Year’s, welcome back, we survived the first week of school’ type thing.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Cool.”

Klarissa pushes herself up on her tip-toes to capture his cold lips in another kiss, her tongue pushing insistently at his lips, tasting the nicotine on his breath as his fingers hold her tighter. She kisses him hard for a minute until she remembers she has a class to get to and then she steps abruptly away from him, noticing the blush of color high on his cheeks and the light dancing in his blue eyes. He drops his cigarette butt to the floor, shoving his hands deep in his pockets and scuffing it out with the toe of his boot. Klarissa can’t resist leaning up for one final brush against his lips before turning away.

“I’m late, I’ll see you tonight, okay?” she says, starting to walk away.

“Klar, wait!”

She turns back to find him unwinding one of the knitted scarves from around his neck. He loops it behind her head and then knots it under her chin, leaning down to kiss her nose before nudging her on her way. She smiles as she hurries to her next class, burrowing her nose into the scarf’s folds and inhaling the warm scent of him, stirring memories of that scent covering her naked skin as his body fits together with hers until she’s the one with a blush on her cheeks as she takes her seat for her next lecture.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

When Klarissa arrives that night at the loft Travis and his roommates share, it’s late and she can tell from the decibel level of both the music and the voices inside that the party is already in full swing. She slips through the front door which is propped open with a bust of William Shakespeare wearing dark glasses and a jaunty bow-tie, pocketing her unused key and pulling off her hat to shake her hair free. She can see Travis’ roommate Derrick holding court in the center of the living room, a gaggle of wide-eyed young girls enraptured by his every word. He winks at her as she passes on her way to the kitchen and she rolls her eyes, unbuttoning her coat as she goes. He may be your classically good looking, boy next door type but there’s something about Derrick Webb that Klarissa just can’t put her finger on, something that disturbs her on a subconscious level.

Shrugging out of her damp coat, Klarissa hangs it over the back of a kitchen chair, hiding her hat on the seat beneath the table. Jones is mixing drinks at the center island, surrounded by her own group of friends, making a batch of one of her own potent creations and she smiles when she spots Klarissa. She doesn’t stop pouring from the two bottles in her hands, just inclines her head back and looks to the door to the roof. Klarissa raises an eyebrow questioningly and Jones shrugs in response. Pushing her way through the people milling around the loft in various states of inebriation, Klarissa climbs the metal stairs to the roof access door and pushes it open, wishing she hadn’t taken her coat off as the frigid wind bites through the thin material of her dress. She scans the dark rooftop but it appears to be empty, the lawn chairs still stacked neatly away from summer and she wonders if Jones was mistaken or if this was her idea of a joke.

“Travis,” she calls into the wind.

“’rissa?” comes his slurred reply and then she spots him, huddled against the side of the raised skylight, coat pulled up to his nose and his fingers wrapped loosely around a bottle of Jack sitting beside him on the roof. She hurries over to him as he tries to get up, feet slipping out from under him and he rolls back to the floor, giggling. She takes his freezing hands in hers and yanks him to his feet where he crashes drunkenly against her, throwing an arm around her shoulder and wagging a finger under her nose.

“You’re late, Kitten,” he says accusingly, “I was waiting and waiting and then Derrick said I should have a drink, just in case you didn’t come, so I had a little drink and then another and then… wait… where’s my  
buddy, Jack?”

He pitches forward, fingers outstretched for the bottle standing discarded on the rooftop and it’s all Klarissa can do to stop them both from going down. She lets him hook the bottle which he curls into his chest and then leads him back inside as quickly as she can, cursing Derrick under her breath for encouraging Travis to get into this state. She slams the door behind them and somehow manages to get them both safely down the stairs, shooting daggers at Derrick as they cross the living room to Travis’ bedroom. She pushes the door closed behind her and locks it, trying to keep him upright long enough to pull his coat off of him and unwrap the scarves from his neck before letting him fall back on his bed. Both of them are shivering, Travis’ eyelids rolling open and closed, and she pulls the bottle from his grasp, taking a long pull from it before setting it on the bedside table. She shudders a little at the strong burn of the whiskey, not her drink of choice, but she can feel it warming her from the inside almost instantly.

Trying to undress Travis and get him into bed is like trying to wrestle an amorous octopus, suddenly he seems to have multiple limbs and his icy hands keep trying to get up Klarissa’s dress as she rolls him out of his clothes and under his covers. For some reason, as soon as she pulls the blankets up around him, he quietens down, his large blue eyes watching her intently over the top as she quickly undresses and slips in beside him, getting as close as she can and taking his hands in hers to gently rub some warmth back in them. He sighs sleepily, his eyes closing and then opening again to re-focus on her face. He starts chewing on his bottom lip and Klarissa leans in to give him a small kiss to make him stop, tasting the sour whiskey on his lips.

“You were late,” he mumbles against her lips.

“I know, baby,” she sighs, snuggling closer to wrap around him, their bodies warming up under the blankets, “I’m sorry. I was just trying to finish my work so I could spend the whole weekend with you, free and clear.”

“I had an idea and you weren’t here. I need your help.”

“Well, I’m here now,” she says softly, stroking the skin on his back. “Tell me your idea, baby.”

“Can’t tell you,” he frowns, “have to show you.”

He tries to sit up, pushing down the covers but Klarissa forces him back down, laughing.

“Not right now, Art-boy, you can show me in the morning. All I want now is for you to get some sleep.”

“Mmm-kay,” Travis replies, pulling her closer to him and tucking his head down into her neck, where his warm breath tickles across her skin making the fine hairs stand on end. In less than a minute, Klarissa feels the change in his breathing and knows he’s already asleep. She lets out a deep breath and strokes at his skin, lying there awake for a long time just listening to the sounds of the party raging outside their door and staring at her portrait hanging above Travis’ bed. The sight of it still gives her butterflies and she remembers the night he finished it, the passion in him arousing her like nothing else before. She listens to the soft purring snore, not unlike a kitten’s, that’s emanating from somewhere beneath her chin and mentally kicks herself for getting there so late. She thinks the evening could have gone so differently if she’d only been on time.

Klarissa doesn’t know how long she’s been lying there but the party shows no signs of winding down and when she’s sure that Travis is okay and completely asleep, she flicks on the tv, lowering the sound and idly scrolls through channels until she drifts off herself.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

“Klarissa… Klar… baby…”

Travis’ soft but insistent voice pulls Klarissa from the dream she’s in, making her wonder which is reality for a moment before she forces her eyes open, yawning as she looks up at him standing by the side of the bed, already dressed in his favorite coveralls.

“Wass goin’ on?” she asks, voice still thick with sleep. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know, umm, around seven maybe.”

“Seven?! Are you freakin’ kidding me? Why are you up?” Klarissa pulls herself up in the bed, giving Travis a small glare. He shuffles his feet, looking down at his scuffed boots and then back at her with that lost puppy look that he does so well, making her feel instantly sorry for being grumpy with him, no matter what the circumstance.

“You said you’d help me with my project this morning,” he says quietly, nervously chewing on the tip of his thumb once more.

“Yes, I did,” Klarissa replies, her voice softening. “I just kinda thought you’d be sleeping late after last night.”

Travis grins shyly down at her.

“I’m sorry about that. Was I a jerk to you?”

“Not at all,” says Klarissa, kneeling up on the bed to wrap her arms around his waist, the covers slipping from her naked body as his hands link around her neck. “I was just hoping we would have had a little ‘us’ time is all.”

He dips his head to kiss her, his lips leaving the minty taste of toothpaste against hers and she pushes herself against him, molding to his body. They kiss for a few minutes but Klarissa can feel his heart isn’t in it and she sighs against his lips, knowing his mind is already locked into the idea in his head. Breaking the kiss, she smiles up at him, loving the excited light that’s dancing in his eyes, seeing the way his mind is already shaping what he wants to do.

“Okay,” she says, “what do you need me to do?”

“Take a shower,” replies Travis, grinning down at her. “I want to paint you.”

“And you find my odor offensive?” Klarissa asks, poking him gently in the ribs.

“No, silly Kitten, I want to paint ‘on’ you, use you as my canvas. I want to see how different mediums work on living flesh. But I need your skin to be free of any chemicals, just your natural body oils.”

“Okay, and once you’ve painted me, then what?” says Klarissa, skeptically.

“Then I’m going to photograph you, document every different thing I use on you.”

“So, let me get this straight. You want me to take a shower, using no soaps or body-washes or anything, then strip naked for you while you cover my body in paint and then let you take pictures of me, correct?”

“Exactly,” replies Travis, eyes shining in anticipation of the work ahead.

Klarissa untangles herself from his embrace and climbs off the bed, heading to the bathroom.

“Then you better go out now and get me breakfast. And coffee, I’m going to need lots of coffee,” she says, closing the bathroom door behind her.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

By the time Travis gets back with fresh bagels and two jumbo cups of steaming coffee as requested, Klarissa has finished her shower and has pulled on an old t-shirt and sweats that she keeps at his place. Her hair is pinned up, damp tendrils still sticking to her neck as she follows him to his studio, shaking her head at the aftermath of the party the night before. The loft is a wreck, people still crashed on various surfaces around the main room, the odor of stale smoke, beer and possibly vomit lingering in the morning air. Travis closes the studio door behind them and slides the deadbolt, ensuring no interruptions from the outside world.

Klarissa wanders the room while he sets up his work area, fascinated as always by what is essentially a glimpse into Travis’ mind. Beyond the large paneled windows, the morning sky is roiling with dark clouds, threatening more snow but the room itself is comfortably warm and Klarissa perches on the window-ledge to eat her bagel and watch the sky until Travis is ready for her. Softly he comes up behind her, wrapping his arms around her from behind and nuzzling at her neck.

“You ready, baby?” he asks.

“As I’ll ever be,” she replies, turning to give him a quick kiss before siding off the window-ledge and turning to look at the space he’s created in the middle of the room. A large, deep red drop cloth has been carefully lain to cover the stained wooden floorboards and in the center of it is a velvet-upholstered chaise in an almost-matching deep claret color. Off to one side, Travis’ photography equipment is out of its cases and set up ready to use. His work table is covered with a mind-boggling array of art supplies and Klarissa realizes she’s probably going to be in for a long day.

“So, how do you want me?” she asks.

Travis pulls at the hem of her t-shirt and she can see the need to create warring with his innate nervousness as if, now the moment is there, he suddenly feels shy about asking her to undress for him. She makes things easy on him by pulling the shirt over her head and taking off her pants, glancing once at the windows, knowing that they’re not overlooked but feeling that moment of exposure all the same. His smile widens as he looks her up and down appreciatively then takes her hand and guides her to the chaise, having her lie on her stomach, head to the end of the seat with her legs resting up against the back. Klarissa makes herself comfortable, the padded velvet of the seat feeling smooth and soft against her naked skin, and crosses her arms to lay her head on them.

The first touch of cool paint against the skin of her shoulders makes her gasp slightly, a shiver rippling out through her, but as he continues stroking the brush against her, she relaxes and actually enjoys the sensation. Travis works in silence, the only sounds coming from the materials he’s using and Klarissa keeps quiet, humbled to be at the center of another of his creations and just letting her mind wander as he moves around her, sometimes sitting beside her or kneeling on the floor, taking breaks from covering her skin to grab his camera and shoot seemingly endless shots of his work. The hours pass as he works his way down her body, not leaving an inch of her untouched in some way, Klarissa letting herself drift in and out of sleep, sometimes only dimly aware of the changing sensations against her flesh.

The smell of hot food tickles at Klarissa’s nose and she opens her eyes, realizing she must have fallen asleep properly at some point. The light in the room has changed, the sky outside now thick with falling snow and she turns to see Travis shrugging out of his white-flecked coat and hanging it beside the door. He shakes the wet from his hair, making it stick out even more and greets Klarissa with a wide grin.

“Hey, sleepyhead. I figured I’d go get you some lunch while you were snoring. You hungry, baby?” He waves the take-out bag in her direction and Klarissa’s stomach gurgles in response. Pushing herself up off the chaise, she winces as her body protests being in one position for so long.

“Starving,” she replies, turning around to sit on the chaise, feeling parts of her skin puckering with the paints drying on them. Travis comes to sit beside her, bringing a coolness from outside with him, as he opens the bag and hands her a foil-wrapped package.

“I got you more coffee too,” he says around a mouthful of his sandwich.

“I love you.”

He laughs, leaning against her side, the bare skin of his arm cool against hers.

“So, how’s it going?” she asks, trying to turn her head to look over her shoulder at her own back.

“Amazing. Even better than I thought it would.” Travis’ eyes are sparkling, his face animated as he begins telling her about all the different things he’s used on her so far and how each one reacted to her body heat and texture. Klarissa nods and adds appropriate comments, not understanding all of it but just happy to hear him talk about it.

“So, are you ready to flip over?” he asks as she finishes the last of her coffee and gives a satisfied stretch, rolling her neck from side to side.

“Sure, right after I go pee,” she replies, standing up and heading into the en-suite. She’s glad that Travis’ studio is technically one of the loft’s bedrooms and she doesn’t have to leave the room to go to the bathroom. While they were eating, Jones had knocked at the door asking for help cleaning up from the night before and Travis had told her in no uncertain terms where to go. Washing her hands in the sink, Klarissa tries to turn to see her back but the bathroom mirror is too small and high up so she can’t get anything more than a glimpse of the mass of bold colors and intricate markings on her skin. She sighs, knowing she’ll just have to be patient and see it when he’s finished.

Getting back to the chaise, she finds that Travis has added some throw pillows against the back and he guides her to lie down until she’s reclining full length, her torso propped up just enough to be comfortable but she doesn’t think she’ll be falling asleep anymore. Once he’s happy with her position, Travis resumes his work, almost seeming to forget she’s there as he paints broad, bold designs across her legs in something that feels like syrup against her skin. He works fast, much faster it seems than any of the time he spent on her back, fingers flying with the brush against her as his brow furrows in concentration. He wipes his hands against a stained rag, picking up his camera and rapidly taking shots from every angle.

He places the camera safely back in its spot and turns back to his work table, squeezing a myriad of paints onto his palette and then coming to sit by Klarissa, his eyes meeting hers for a moment before he dips his brush into the paint and applies it to her skin. Using the roses tattooed on her chest as his starting point he works out from there, incorporating them into a larger design, spreading out across her breasts and down her abdomen. Now he’s taking his time, mixing colors and using the brush to make tiny, delicate marks against her skin. She watches his face and his hands the whole time, smiling slightly at the pink tip of his tongue visible against his lips and the way he runs his hands through his hair, oblivious to the paint he’s transferring there.

As he works at the underside of her breasts, Klarissa tilts her head back, arms resting up behind her, and watches the snow silently falling against the skylight above her, becoming hypnotized by the flakes sliding down the sloped glass. Travis’ body feels warm against her hip and she starts paying more attention whenever his fingers brush against her flesh. Watching him work is starting to make her feel aroused, her body becoming hyper-sensitive to each of the stimuli he’s applying to it and when he brushes over her nipples with a smear of crimson paint on each, she can’t stifle the small moan that escapes from her throat. Travis’ eyes lock with hers again, staring intently at her as he lifts the brush from her skin. She feels her body respond under his gaze, a warmth spreading through her as she arches her back slightly off the seat towards him. He licks his lips, tearing his eyes from hers and turning them back to his palette, furiously blending smears of color until he’s satisfied with the results.

When he touches her again, he’s not using any brush, just his paint slicked fingers sliding against the flesh of her abdomen as he draws new designs with their tips. Klarissa’s eyes close with pleasure, and she tries to control her breathing as his skin slips against hers, igniting her arousal under his touch. As he works lower, skimming the edge of her mound, she feels a wetness start to grow between her thighs, her pussy starting to yearn for his touch. Try as she might, she’s finding it increasingly difficult to stay put under his touch, a whole day of having her body worked on now coming to a head. Travis pulls his hands from her skin, looking at the results with a critical eye and then cleaning his hands to retrieve his camera once more, taking his time to circle her body, bending to take extreme close-ups of the last part of his work. Klarissa keeps as still as possible, mentally crossing her fingers that this is it for the day but, when he replaces the camera and pulls another clean brush from his collection, she resigns herself to being teased just a little bit longer.

Travis comes to the head of the chaise, leaning his hands on either side of her head and bending to capture her lips in a rough kiss, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip. Klarissa’s hands reach up to fold into the material of his coveralls, holding him in place while she kisses him back. He straightens up and she releases him as he smiles down at her, tapping the head of the fat brush against his palm.

“Just one more thing, Kitten, and then we’re done, I promise.”

Klarissa nods, wanting to tell him that she’s done now, that she doesn’t think she can stand to have her body teased anymore, that she needs him to take care of her.

“Okay, now close your eyes,” he commands and she complies, feeling the rough skin of his hand sliding down her thigh to hook her knee and draw her leg up towards her. She feels the touch of the brush against her inner thigh, working down from her kneecap towards her sex, the soft hairs of the large, fat head caressing her skin. Confused, she realizes that the brush is dry and wonders what he’s doing. He leans over her, hand gently taking her other leg to slide it over the edge of the wide chaise until its dangling from the side, the tip of her toes barely scraping the floor. Her pussy twitches as she’s opened up under him and she gives another slight moan.

“Shh, baby” he whispers and she feels the brush sweep up the inside of her other thigh, pulling off as it reaches the top.

For a second there’s nothing and Klarissa bites her bottom lip between her teeth, almost writhing in her need for some kind of touch. She doesn’t have to wait long as Travis’ warm fingers are suddenly parting her folds and before she can even utter a gasp at his touch, he strokes the feather-soft brush against her clit making her buck under him. He waits until she’s settled back down and then repeats the move, this time circling her nub with the brush then stroking back and forth across it until she’s exhaling a moan with every swipe. Klarissa drops her other leg off the chaise, spreading herself as wide as possible to him as he strokes her up and down with the brush, varying the pressure on her clit with each pass. She can feel the brush passing through her wetness and spreading the slickness everywhere it touches, the head becoming soaked and the sensation it gives changing as it does.

Travis starts making small, tight swirls at the top of her clit, knowing just where to tease her for maximum pleasure until she’s thumping her fist on the padded seat and moaning his name. Her orgasm comes suddenly, her knees tightening around the chaise as her back bows up from the surface, her fingers digging into the padding under her as she rocks her pelvis with each pulsing sensation. Travis strokes at her until her body relaxes back down and then he leans over her to softly kiss at her neck, moving up to whisper in her ear.

“Thank you, baby.”

He leans back, resting beside her as she reaches for his fingers, locking them with hers. Her body is still shooting off tiny aftershocks and she’s still aching for him, needing him even more. Her eyes fall to the tell-tale bulge pushing at the crotch of his coveralls and he blushes slightly as his gaze follows hers, making her heart ache for him.

“Travis,” she whispers, squeezing her fingers with hers. When he doesn’t move, she frees her hand to tug at the front of his coveralls, then pushes against him until he stands up with a small laugh and strips out of his clothing. He kneels between her still open legs, laying his body atop hers to meet her lips in a slow kiss, his tongue fully exploring her mouth, and she can feel the shaft of his hard cock pushing against her wetness. Pulling up off her, he looks down at her body, fingers swirling in the still wet paint across her torso, sliding his palms up over her breasts making her groan beneath him. He brings his hands down to her thighs, smearing the paint into a rainbow of mixed colors and pulling her legs back up onto the seat.

With a gentle but firm touch he maneuvers her body until she’s laying on her side, Klarissa allowing herself to be manipulated, until he’s resting behind her knees. Klarissa sometimes forgets that his awkward, nerdy outer appearance hides such a strong, well-toned body and she looks at him in admiration as he strokes his hand down her spine, cupping her ass for a second and then sliding his hand under the back of her thigh to lift it in the air, her leg coming up to rest on his shoulder as he lifts his knee to straddle her other thigh. With a small forward movement she can feel him pushing against her slick entrance and, with a maddening slowness, he enters her, his mouth dropping as he pushes past her slick walls until they’re pelvis to pelvis.

With that same deliberate slowness, he pulls back and then into her again, pushing as deep as he can and then holding there, bodies locked together, teasing them both with the need to move. Klarissa whines deep in her chest and that starts him moving again, one of his hands wrapped tight around the thigh pressed to his chest and the other splayed against her stomach. From this angle his penetration is deep and he begins making long, slow strokes, grinding against her at the peak of each thrust and stimulating her clit until she’s moaning once more beneath him. With each noise she makes, she can feel his cock twitch deep inside her and she squeezes around him, encouraging him to speed up a little. His pace increases, fingers sliding up to play with her nipples, pulling and twisting gently until she’s panting slightly, squeezing her walls tighter around him.

With a grunt, Travis slams hard into her, fingers tightening on her thigh as he bucks his hips fast against her and she’s coming hard again. Travis lets loose a final grunt and comes with her, pushing and pushing until his legs shake and then he pulls out of her, letting her leg back down and rolling her on her back to collapse on top of her, where she wraps her arms around him, laughing gently. They lay together, bodies sticking to each other from both the paint and the sheen of sweat that’s covering them both until Klarissa pushes Travis’ shoulders, nudging him up off of her.

“I’m melting,” she says, by way of explanation and he grins getting up off of her and padding over to the work table, pushing things aside until he finds his smokes and lights one, turning back to come sit beside her again, resting his hand on her thigh. He hands her the smoke, eyes travelling her body as she inhales deeply, sighing and leaning back against the pillows. Reaching over, Travis hooks his camera from the nearby table and focuses the lens on Klarissa’s midriff, snapping a few shots.

“Really?” she asks, handing him back the cigarette and looking down at the smeared mess on her skin, all traces of the intricate designs Travis had made earlier gone in a swirl of color. Travis nods, cigarette bobbing between his lips.

“I shall call it ‘Aftermath’ or ‘Sex’, I haven’t decided yet.”

“Well, as long as you don’t name it after me and my face is nowhere to be seen in this little experiment, you can call it what you like,” says Klarissa, getting up off the chaise and heading to the bathroom. “I’m going to go take a shower while you clean up in here.”

Travis waves a hand in her general direction and she knows he’s already lost back in his work, mentally editing the pictures he just took and she knows she’ll be the one cleaning up after her shower. She steps under the hot water, grabbing gratefully for the body-wash and begins scrubbing the itchy layers of paint from her skin, watching the water run a muddy brown as it disappears down the drain. Once it’s running clear once more and she’s used nearly the whole bottle to scrub herself clean, Klarissa turns off the water and steps out, reaching for a towel, only to find there aren’t any. Cursing at herself for not checking first, she opens the bathroom door and drips her way over to where Travis is already working at the picture files on his computer as she knew he would be. It takes him a second to realize she’s standing there, he was so far into his head, and his puzzled look tells her he has no idea why she’s naked and wet in front of him.

”No towels,” she says, putting her hands on her hips and looking at him expectantly.

Stifling a giggle, Travis slides off his stool and goes to get her a towel. He’s pulled his coveralls back on but they’re undone to the waist, showing enough of his muscled torso to start getting her worked up again. As he closes the door behind him, she sneaks a glance at the image he’s working on, trying to make sense of the riot of color she’s seeing. She’s bending forward for a better look when she hears the door re-open behind her and she hears Travis bark a laugh out as he comes back in.

“What?” she says, spinning to face him.

He doesn’t reply, a guilty look on his face, as he takes her hand and leads her over to the darkened windows, turning her so she can see her back reflected in the glass. Her eyes take a second to adjust and then she sees the source of his laughter.

“Travis!” she screeches, slapping at him while he laughs harder, arms coming up to protect himself from her blows. She whips back around to look at her reflection again.

“Did you draw on my ass with a goddamn Sharpie, you little shit?”


End file.
